On the 18th of June my road again lay up the valley of the Butna, usually close to the stream, partly through bare country, with scattered bushes of Zizyphus and Daphne, but mostly through very beautiful forest of oak, alder, horse-chesnut, and ash. The river varied much in character; but for the most part it flowed with great rapidity over a rocky channel, and in one place formed a cataract of some size. More than once, however, and always above the most rapid parts, it was tranquil, though still swift, and flowed between gravelly islands. The hills on both sides were steep and lofty, and after the first two miles, patches of snow occurred in every ravine. I passed several villages and a good deal of cultivation, and encamped at Chishot, at about 8200 feet above the level of the sea.

Next day, at starting, the road lay through pine-forests for about two miles, the elevation rapidly increasing. At about that distance, there was a very long rapid or cataract, with a fall of several hundred feet within a space of 150 or 200 yards. At the lower end of the rapid, the river disappeared under a snow-bed, which formed an arch across it from bank to bank. Above, the stream was wide and tranquil, and the pine-forest ceasing, the road entered an open valley, with much cultivation around the village of Himor. Along the water-courses by which the lands of this village were irrigated, there was a good deal of swampy ground, in which grew Parnassia, Polygonum viviparum, an Orchis not unlike O. latifolia, a Triglochin, and some Carices, all Kunawar species. Beyond the village, the valley continued open and bare, but was very rocky, and covered with large boulders. There was no wood, except in the ravines, which were occupied by groves of poplar (P. ciliata) and walnut; a few trees of the same and of birch being scattered over the hill-sides. No oak or Gerard's pine was seen during the day. The herbaceous vegetation on the open sunny banks was very luxuriant, and the species were mostly the same as I have recorded in a similar situation, and at the same elevation, on the 13th, after descending from the Sach pass. I must except the Eremurus, then so abundant, which was here entirely wanting. There were also a few novelties. Large tracts were covered with a tall fern (Pteris aquilina?). After passing through the cultivated lands of a second village, and crossing some snow-beds, the road entered a wood of stunted deodars, and, turning to the left, proceeded up the more northerly of two ravines, into which the valley here divided. That to the south, which in direction was a continuation of the valley, was filled with forest, but the one up which the road turned was steep and stony, and contained only a few scattered trees of birch, hazel, and poplar. After a march of about eight miles, I encamped on an open level spot, where there were a few fields, and one or two huts, at present uninhabited, at an elevation of 10,500 feet.

On the 20th, I proceeded further up the same valley, ascending gently but steadily. The valley was open and bounded on both sides by steep rocky mountains, those on the right partially wooded with birch, on the other side quite bare. Behind, beyond the point from which I had the day before turned abruptly to the left, rose a lofty snowy peak, very steep and rocky; in front, only a very small portion of the snowy range which I was rapidly approaching could be seen. The stream was for the most part covered with snow, and the road crossed numerous snow-beds. At first, the hill-sides were rounded and covered with vegetation, but very soon the road became rocky, and was covered as yesterday with enormous boulders, evidently indicative of a former glacier. These were all gneiss, which rock also occurred in situ, as had been the case ever since I had left Chatargarh, where it replaced the clay-slate, which had been common on the banks of the Chenab. After walking for about two miles among these huge masses of rock, I suddenly emerged into open country, and, after descending a few feet, entered a level plain, nearly two miles in length and at least half a mile in width, partly covered with snow stretching down from the ravines on each side. This plain appeared to have been at one time the bed of a small lake; and as its lower end was crossed by an evident moraine, it seems probable that a glacier had at some former period crossed the valley and dammed up the channel of the stream. Small groves of willow of two distinct species, one twelve to fifteen feet high, the other not above two or three, were scattered over this plain. The surface, where free from snow, was usually grassy, and near the lower end very swampy. The snow had evidently very recently covered the whole surface, as few plants were yet in flower, except a bright blue gentian in the marshy parts, and a viscid Cerastium on the gravel. A species of rhubarb was abundant on the banks surrounding this plain, and its acid leaf-stalks were eagerly eaten by the men who carried my luggage. The road traversed the whole length of this level tract, and, at its upper end, crossed two low ridges of boulders, evidently moraines. Beyond these lay another plain, much more barren and desolate-looking than the previous one, the greater part being still covered with snow. Those parts from which the snow had melted were gravelly, with scarce a vestige of vegetation. I encamped on the last bare spot of this plain, close to extensive snow-beds, from below which the stream flowed, and about a mile from the end of a large glacier which filled up the end of the valley, but was cut off abruptly at the commencement of the open plain. The elevation of my tent was 11,400 feet. The plain on which I was encamped was surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains, all extremely steep and rugged. Those to the south and east were covered with snow to the very base, but to the north little or no snow was visible, the hills close at hand rising so abruptly that they entirely excluded the view of the ranges behind. The southern slopes from the base to the height of about 1000 feet were covered with birch-trees, still quite leafless, except a few on the edge of the plain, which were beginning to throw out buds, the snow having melted round their roots.

On the 21st of June I continued my journey over the snow-bed close to which I had encamped, in the direction of the end of the glacier. While still several hundred yards distant from it, the road turned abruptly to the left, ascending a very steep stony hill, which formed the side of a lateral ravine descending from the north. When I had ascended a few hundred feet, I obtained an excellent view of the glacier which occupied the valley below. Its surface, from the great slope of the valley, was extremely irregular, and to all appearance quite impassable, from the numerous fissures which traversed it in every direction, and the irregular pinnacles of ice which rose above its surface. It was terminated abruptly by a perpendicular cliff, which projected more in the centre than on the sides, and was much and deeply fissured both horizontally and perpendicularly. The glacier was in parts covered with masses of boulders and gravel, on which lay a sprinkling of snow in small patches. The lateral moraines were well marked, being much higher than the surface of the glacier, and separated by a deep fissure from the rocky wall of the valley. Immediately in front of the termination of the glacier, the surface of the plain was free from snow; numerous boulders of large size were scattered over it, and large masses of ice, evidently fragments of the glacier, lay among them.

The ascent of the lateral ravine continued steep, sometimes over rock, often over what appeared to be an ancient moraine, and now and then over grassy sward, adorned with numerous alpine plants in full flower. Among these was a little Iris, which I had seen the day before in fruit, Podophyllum, Fritillaria, and a pretty rose-coloured Pedicularis. There were a few stunted bushes of birch on the first part of the ascent, but they were soon left behind. After ascending about 1500 feet, I passed a singular-looking little circular plain, perhaps half a mile in diameter, still covered with snow. The road lay on the left of this plain over a hill of boulders. It now ascended very rapidly, and soon reached another glacier, the termination of which was extremely oblique, being prolonged much further on the right or south-east side of the ravine than on the other. The slope of the valley was so extremely abrupt, that the surface of the glacier was fissured in a most extraordinary manner; and it was still partially covered with snow. The road ascended over the moraine which lay between the glacier and the wall of the valley, generally at a great height above the level of the ice. In the crevices of the stones one or two plants still lingered: Primula minutissima was in flower, and a little Sedum and a dwarf willow (S. repens, L.) were beginning to expand their buds. My day's march amounted to about five miles, and I encamped upon the moraine on a level piece of ground just large enough to hold my tent, and close to the glacier. The temperature of boiling water indicated an elevation of about 14,600 feet. All around was snow and ice, except one steep sloping bank facing the south, on the most sheltered corner of which my baggage porters established themselves. On this bank vegetation had already made considerable progress: at least a dozen species were in flower, of which the most abundant were a rose-coloured Polygonum, a Potentilla, and Ranunculus, and, most abundant of all, a beautiful blue Gymnandra.

The surface of the glacier opposite to my tent was much covered with debris, and many large boulders were imbedded in the ice, which was very much fissured, rising into sharp pinnacles. As the day advanced, it was traversed by numerous rills of water, and the sound of falling stones was heard in every direction.

I had hitherto been extremely fortunate in weather, considering the season; but just at sunset, a few light clouds having first appeared in the south horizon, the sky became suddenly overcast, and light snow began to fall. Very little fell during the night, but at daybreak on the 22nd of June, just as I was preparing to start, it began to snow rather heavily. I had unfortunately no choice but to proceed. The place in which I was encamped was not at all adapted for a resting-place during a heavy fall of snow; and arrangements had already been made for the relief of the baggage porters who had come with me, by a party of Zanskaries at the top of the pass on this day.

The first part of the ascent lay up the moraine parallel to the glacier, and was extremely steep for nearly 1000 feet of perpendicular elevation, up to the top of the very abrupt ravine in which I had been encamped. Beyond this, the valley widened considerably; and as its slope was now very gentle, the glacier was quite smooth, and the path lay over its surface, which was covered by a considerable layer (five or six inches) of last winter's snow, as well as by a sprinkling of that which had fallen during the night. The ice was a good deal fissured, but in general the fissures were not more than a few inches in width; a few only were as much as two feet. The road continued for two or three miles over the surface of the glacier, which gradually widened out as I advanced. Its upper part was expanded into an icy plain of great width, bounded by a semicircular arch of precipitous rocks, except where three ravines descended into it, down which three narrow glaciers flowed to contribute a supply of ice to the vast mass in the bay. On the smooth ice below, central moraines were very visible, and could be distinctly traced to the rocks by which the three smaller glaciers were separated. A great part of these central moraines were covered with snow; but now and then an immense detached boulder of gneiss was seen, supported by a column of clear blue ice, veined with horizontal white bands, by which it was raised high above the surface of the glacier, and the snow which covered it.

The three branches which united to form this grand sea of ice were very steep, and consequently much fissured and fractured. The road lay up that to the right, ascending by the moraine to the left of the glacier, the surface of the ice being quite impracticable. This ascent, which I estimated at the time to amount to at least 1000 feet, was exceedingly steep and laborious, as beneath a thin layer of fresh snow it was covered with hard frozen snow, on which the footing was quite insecure. On attaining the summit of this steep ascent, I found the surface of the glacier much more smooth, the inclination of the bed of the ravine having suddenly changed; it was now, however, covered with a layer of snow several feet thick, which probably tended to render small inequalities of surface unobservable. I was now in a wide valley or basin, the rocky hills on both sides rising precipitously to a height of from 200 to 1000 feet above the level of the snow. After perhaps two miles of gradual ascent, these rocky walls gradually closing in united in a semicircle in front, and the road passed through a gorge or fissure in the ridge, to the crest of which the snow-bed had gradually sloped up. This fissure, which was not more than two feet in width, was the pass, but when I reached it, snow was falling so thickly that I could not see ten yards in any direction. I therefore remained only long enough to ascertain that the boiling-point of water was 180·3°, indicating an elevation of at least 18,000 feet.

The commencement of the descent was very rapid down a narrow gorge, into which the fissure at the top widened by degrees. The fresh snow, which had fallen to the depth of at least a foot, was quite soft and yielding, so that great caution was required. After four or five hundred yards, the slope became more gradual and the ravine considerably wider. The road was now evidently over the surface of a glacier. The mountains on both sides were extremely rocky, rugged, and precipitous. Each lateral ravine brought an additional stream of ice to swell that in the central one; and on each lateral glacier there was a moraine which had to be crossed. Further on, the slope again increasing, the road left the surface of the glacier, and ascended the moraine by its side. This was at first covered with deep snow, both old and fresh; but as I advanced I found the old snow only in patches, but covered with a layer of new. At last I reached a point at which the snow melted as it fell, and not long after the glacier stopped abruptly, a considerable stream issuing from beneath the perpendicular wall by which it terminated.

Beyond the end of the glacier the valley continued very steep. It was several hundred feet across, and covered with loose stones of various sizes, over which the stream ran in a wide shallow channel. Lower down, the bed of the rivulet became contracted and rocky, and I crossed to its right bank over a natural bridge consisting of one large stone, ten or twelve feet long, which had fallen so as to lie across the rocky channel. Advancing a few paces beyond this bridge, I suddenly found myself at the end of the ravine, and overlooking a wide valley many hundred feet below, filled by an enormous glacier descending from the left. This glacier was completely covered with a mass of debris, which entirely concealed the ice, and from its enormous dimensions must have had a very distant source. I had no means at the time of determining with accuracy either its width or depth, nor do I find any estimate of it (except in superlatives) in my notes made on the spot; I cannot, therefore, at this distance of time, venture to give any exact dimensions: I can only say that it much exceeded in size any that I have before or since had an opportunity of seeing.

It was just at the termination of the upper ravine that the first traces of vegetation were observed: till reaching this point the rocks and gravel had been quite bare. The first plant observed was Primula minutissima; the only other in flower was a large purple-coloured Crucifera (a species of Parrya), but leaves of several others were beginning to expand.

The road did not descend at once into the large valley, but, turning abruptly to the right, ran parallel to the glacier but high above it on the rocky mountain-side, for nearly a mile, gradually descending so as to reach the bottom of the valley just as the glacier ended. The valley beyond its termination was wide and stony, and I encamped among a number of very large boulders about half a mile further on. The elevation of my camp was 13,800 feet, so that I had descended upwards of 4000 feet from the top of the pass. I found that the inhabitants on the two sides of the pass knew it by different names, those of Padar, on the south, calling it the Bardar pass, while to the Zanskaries it is known as Umasi La.

The morning of the 23rd of June was bright and clear, but intensely frosty. The valley in which I was encamped was enclosed by lofty mountains covered with much snow, though on the level ground there were only a few patches. The road lay down the valley, which soon became narrow and stony, and the descent somewhat rapid. The ground was at first quite bare, and devoid of any sort of vegetation, except here and there on the bank of the stream, where, close to the water's edge, a small patch of green was occasionally to be seen. The narrowest parts of the ravine were occupied by large snow-beds, entirely covering the rivulet, but at intervals the valley widened out into a gravelly plain. After about a mile, some vegetation began to appear, and after four or five miles it became plentiful. The banks of the stream, in the wide and gravelly parts, were fringed with dwarf willows just bursting into leaf. Primula minutissima was plentiful in the crevices of the stones, and I met with many plants scattered about, of which none but the very earliest were yet in flower. Two or three species only could be identified with the plants of the Indian side of the pass; the majority were quite different. Lithospermum Euchromon of Royle, and the Parrya first seen the day before, were among the commonest species; several other Cruciferæ were also seen, as well as a Gentiana, one or two Astragali, a species of Meconopsis, a small Gagea, Ephedra, and Nepeta glutinosa. Species of Artemisia, Cynoglossum and other Boragineæ, of Polygonum and Rheum, though not in flower, were recognizable, but the greater number of plants were only beginning to vegetate. As I descended, a few shrubs of Lonicera hispida and of Rosa Webbiana (the Tibet rose) were met with, but all very stunted.

The valley continued to descend, and the snow soon receded to some distance up the mountain-sides. At last I came to a single habitation, a little monastery inhabited by one Lama, and built under the precipitous rocks on the left side of the valley. A very small patch of cultivation lay on the bank of the stream just below it; the corn was not more than two or three inches high. A little further on, the road suddenly turned into a much larger and more open valley, watered by a considerable stream, which ran through a wide, open, gravelly channel, from which long and very slightly inclined gravelly slopes extended on both sides to the base of the mountains. The stream proved to be the western branch of the Zanskar river. To the north-westward of the point where I entered its valley, its upward course was visible for eight or ten miles, all the way through an open gravelly plain. Several villages and a good deal of cultivation were seen in that direction, on the slopes descending from the mountains.

My road lay to the eastward down the valley, partly through cultivated lands, partly over barren gravelly or stony plains, and often over grassy meadows on the banks of the river. Wheat, barley, and peas were the crops cultivated, all only a few inches in height. Round the fields and on the banks of the water-courses a luxuriant herbage was beginning to spring up, which contrasted strongly with the sterility of the stony plains. The fields were quite flat and generally unenclosed, the valley being too level to require terracing; small canals conducted water for irrigation to every field. The villages were all small and bare, and during the day I saw only a single tree—a small poplar—in a garden or enclosure at one of the last villages through which I passed, before halting for the day. I encamped, after a march of at least twelve miles, near the village of Markim, on a fine grassy plain close to the river, the banks of which were lined by a few bushes of Myricaria and Hippophaë. The elevation of my tent was 12,100 feet.

In the valley of the Chenab the prevailing rock had everywhere been clay-slate, but where I turned up the valley of the Butna it was replaced by gneiss, which continued to form the whole mountain-mass on both sides of the Umasi pass, so far as I could infer the nature of their structure from the boulders brought down by glaciers. On the earlier part of this day's journey, the gneiss gave place again to mica-slate and clay-slate; but in the wide valley, where no rock was seen in situ, the boulders were all composed of gneiss, and had probably, therefore, been transported from the upper part of the mountains.

On the 24th of June I continued my journey to Padum, which is considered the capital of Zanskar. My road lay still east, down a wide, open plain. The mountains on the north side of the valley were not to appearance very lofty, and were merely tipped with snow; those to the south were much higher and had a great deal of snow, which, however, did not come within perhaps 1500 feet of the plain. There was no snow in the plain itself, which had a width of from two to four miles. Cultivated tracts were frequent, occurring wherever water was easily procurable for irrigation, but the greater part of the surface was dry, barren, and stony, producing scarcely any herbage. The river ran through a wide, gravelly bed, and was divided into numerous channels. It was often fringed with low jungle of Myricaria and Hippophaë, two shrubs which, though not entirely confined to Tibet, are most abundant in every part of that country up to nearly 14,000 feet, in the gravelly beds of streams. In some places the banks of the stream were very low and swampy, and covered with turf. About half-way down the plain the different branches of the river united into one, which ran with a swift impetuous current over the boulders which formed its bed, the melting of the snow on the mountains having brought down a very large body of water. At this point it was crossed by a rope-bridge, leading to a large village on the left bank. A little further on I passed through a considerable village, with extensive cultivated lands, and a large well-built monastery, in which, I believe, Csoma de Körös resided while in Zanskar. The road then made a considerable detour to the south, to the base of the mountains, to reach a bridge over a lateral stream now so much swollen as to be unfordable. After crossing this stream by a good wooden bridge, the road entered an open grassy plain sloping imperceptibly from the mountains towards the river, at the south-east angle of which lay the town or village of Padum.

Padum, which was at one time the principal place in Zanskar, is, though now much decayed, still considered as such, probably both from its central situation and from the garrison of Gulab Singh's troops being established near it. It is built on a low hill lying at the south-east corner of a wide open plain which surrounds the junction of two large streams which here unite to form the Zanskar river. Of these, one descending from the south runs through a rocky and barren country, which contains, I was informed, but few and small villages. It is that to which Moorcroft, who crossed it near its source, has given the name of Zanskar; and as it appears to the eye the larger stream of the two, it will probably be found entitled to retain the name, although the district watered by the western branch, which runs gently through an open country, is much more fertile and populous. The junction of these two streams takes place four or five miles north of Padum. The plain is partly low and partly a platform nearly a hundred feet above the level of the rivers.

Entirely secluded by lofty ranges of snowy mountains from the approach of any moisture-bringing winds, the valley of Zanskar has an absolutely Tibetan climate. Tree vegetation is entirely wanting, and the mountains and plains are dry, barren, and desolate. At the same time, from the dryness of the summer, the powerful influence of the sun induces here, as elsewhere in Tibet, a much milder climate than prevails at an equal elevation within the influence of the periodical rains, for in no part of the Indian portion of the mountains does any cultivated valley exist at an elevation of 12,000 feet above the level of the sea. The extent of open country is more considerable in this portion of the Zanskar valley than elsewhere in the basin of the Indus. Villages also are frequent, particularly in the lower part, and the cultivated lands of many of them are extensive. The alluvial platforms are of great extent, and so nearly level, that no terracing is required for purposes of irrigation. On this account, and from the total want of fences, the appearance of the plain is remarkable, and very different from that usual around Tibetan villages. At the period of my visit, the crops were only a few inches in height, and the whole population were busy in the fields, irrigating them and keeping out straggling cattle. The inhabitants, in appearance, manners, and mode of life, are the same as those of Ladak; their language and religion too are the same, as far as I could learn.

The change of climate was, as a matter of course, accompanied by an almost total change of vegetation, which had assumed entirely the Tibetan character. Scarcely more than a fourth, on a rough estimate, of the species observed, were the same as grew on the Indian side of the pass. Of these, a very few were cosmopolitan or widely-diffused plants. Such were Thymus Serpyllum, Plantago Asiatica, Taraxacum, Veronica biloba, Medicago lupulina, and Polygonum aviculare or a closely-allied species. The greater number were species of the dry climate, which, from being capable of bearing a certain quantity of moisture, vegetate also in the first valleys on the opposite side of the pass, though quite incapable of living under the full influence of the rains: as instances, I may mention Rosa Webbiana, Myricaria, Hippophaë, Ephedra, Aquilegia Moorcroftiana, and several Astragali.

Excluding both these classes, more than two-thirds of the plants were entirely different from those which flourish on the Indian side. The season was early spring, so that a great part of the vegetation was still dormant, but it was making rapid strides under the influence of a powerful sun, particularly in the neighbourhood of the town of Padum, which appeared to be the warmest nook in the valley. The dry, barren tracts, which constitute the greater part of the surface, produced numerous, generally dwarf species of Boragineæ and Cruciferæ. Three Potentillæ were common, one of them P. anserina. Near the river there was a more luxuriant vegetation. Rank species of Heracleum, Astragalus, Scrophularia, Matthiola, and Eurotia were coming into flower under the shelter of walls and bushes. In richer soil a species of Hyoscyamus, with pale yellow trumpet-shaped flowers (Belenia of Decaisne), was common, while around the fields grew species of Geranium, Cynoglossum, Nepeta, and Astragalus. Except a little Poa, no grasses were yet in flower, but several small Cyperaceæ formed dense patches of turf. The meadows close to the edge of the river were invariably swampy, and had a peculiar vegetation of their own, consisting of two species of Triglochin, a white-flowered Taraxacum, a little Primula, Ranunculus Cymbalaria, and Glaux, with Hippuris and Utricularia in the pools of water.

CHAPTER XIII.

Rope bridge across Zanskar river—Tongde—Zangla—Road leaves Zanskar river—Takti La—Nira—Bridge over Zanskar river—Singhi La—Phutaksha—Wandla—Lama Yuru—Cross Indus river—Kalatze—Nurla—Saspola—Nimo—Le—Pass north of Le—Small glacier—Kardong—Kalsar—Vegetation—Diskit—Passage of Shayuk river—Upper Nubra—Vegetation of Nubra—Hot spring at Panamik.

I remained at Padum two days, to make inquiries as to the road and arrangements for porters and supplies. On the 27th of June, I commenced my journey towards the Indus. The road lay down the valley of Zanskar, crossing the eastern branch of that river opposite the town of Padum, by a rather insecure-looking rope-bridge, high above the stream, which was deep, rapid, and muddy. The rope, as is usual in Tibet, was formed of willow twigs. After crossing this bridge, I followed the right bank of the stream in a north-easterly direction, principally over dry, desert, stony plains, considerably elevated above the river. These high banks were composed of fine clay, which was occasionally quite pure, but more frequently contained numerous fragments of a black slate rock. These were especially abundant where lateral ravines descended from the mountains, while in the intervening spaces the clay was comparatively free of them. The same black slate cropped out in situ in several places along the bank of the river; and from the numerous boulders everywhere scattered over the surface of the platform, it appeared to be the prevailing rock in the mountains on the right. The platforms usually terminated abruptly, being either scarped or sloping very steeply towards the river. A strip of low, wet, grassy ground, which was more or less covered with Hippophaë jungle, was generally interposed between the cliffs and the river. When this was absent, the steep slopes were barren till close to the water's edge. On the left bank of the river, after the first two miles, the table-land sank, an extensive low plain forming a tongue of land between the two branches. On this low land, close to the eastern river, and about two miles from the town of Padum, lay the fort occupied by the military force of the valley: a small square, with four round bastions. After marching nine or ten miles, I encamped at a small village called Tongde, among undulating clay hills, by which the view of the river and valley was excluded. Nearly opposite, a mile or two below the junction of the two rivers, was Karsha, at present the largest town in Zanskar: it lies in a ravine at a considerable distance from the river, and, from the steepness of the slope on which it is built, presents rather an imposing appearance. The level tract intervening between the town and the river was covered with cultivation.

On the 28th, I continued along the valley, but in a more northerly direction than the day before. The lofty snowy range to the south-west was now finely seen, forming a semicircle of rocky peaks behind Padum. The road lay again over dry plains, partly stony, partly hard clay; even the banks of the river were dry and stony, without a vestige of turf. The only species worthy of note which occurred during the day, in addition to the plants common on these barren tracts, was Oxytropis chiliophylla: it was very scarce at the beginning of the march, but before I had reached half-way it had become so abundant that at a distance the ground appeared of a bright red colour, from the immense abundance of its flowers. Several villages were passed on the road, and two considerable streams, both of which had excavated deep ravines in the loose conglomerate of which the plateau was formed. On the latter part of the march, the mountains which formed the right side of the valley approached close to the river, leaving no passage along the bank, so that the road made a short steep ascent over loose shingly debris and rocky ground, and continued for more than a mile along the face of the ridge. After that distance, it descended to a grassy, saline, very swampy plain, close to the river. I encamped at the village of Zangla, which lies at the base of the mountains, on the upper part of a steep stony slope, extending down to the river.

The alluvial platforms during this day's journey were generally of great thickness. This was especially the case around Tongde, where the clay formation formed considerable hills; and on the latter part of the march, where the mountains advanced nearly to the stream. Here high banks of clay were accumulated on the ridges, and were frequently, as in many other parts of Tibet, worn into fantastic shapes by the melting of the snow. Near Zangla, too, detached masses were seen clinging to the sides of the mountains, at considerable heights, in positions which indicated great denudation.

The result of my inquiries at Padum had been, that the lower part of the course of the Zanskar river (which I had hoped I might be able to follow to its junction with the Indus) was so rocky and difficult as to be impracticable, and that at the present season, when the torrents were all swollen by the melting snow, the only practicable road to the Indus lay through the mountains, at a distance from the river. I was now approaching the point where the road entered the mountains, and could already see that the fine open valley through which I had been travelling was soon to have an end. At Zangla it had become sensibly narrower, and the mountains on both sides, still tipped with snow, were extremely rocky and rugged.

The earlier part of the march of the 29th of June was still parallel to the river, partly over table-land, at other times through a dense jungle of Hippophaë, which covered its low banks, as well as several islands in its channel. After about four miles, the road turned suddenly to the right, and, leaving the valley altogether, commenced a rapid ascent on the steep slope of the mountain. From the point at which the road turned off, the Zanskar valley ahead could be seen to narrow rapidly, by the closing-in of the mountains. A turn in its direction, at the distance of four or five miles, hid the further course of the river from view, but the steep scarped mountains, which seemed to rise almost perpendicularly from its bed, left no doubt of the difficult nature of the country through which it ran.

The first part of the ascent was very steep and bare. A prickly Statice, in dense round tufts, made its appearance after the first few hundred feet, accompanied by another very common Tibetan plant, which had not been met with in the open plain, a species of Cicer, described by Bentham as C. microphyllum, if indeed the Siberian C. Soongaricum be not the same species. This plant is remarkable, not only for a very viscid exudation, but also for its peculiar strong aromatic and pungent odour, which, except that it is very much more powerful, a good deal resembles that of its cultivated congener C. arietinum, the well-known gram of Upper India. It also recalls to mind the smell of the common black currant, which, however, is more aromatic and less pungent and acidulous. On the lower part of the ascent the prevailing rock was limestone, of a dark bluish-grey colour, extremely hard, containing many white veins and crystals of calcareous spar; it closely resembled the limestone of the Hangarang pass, and, like it, alternated with hornstone and cherty quartz rock, and with finely laminated slates.

On leaving the bare slope, the road entered a narrow ravine, and continued to ascend rapidly along the bank of the streamlet which trickled down it. The ravine was full of loose angular stones, and had on both sides high rocky precipices of limestone and slate. Close to the little rivulet, a willow, a Lonicera, and a rose grew in great plenty among the loose stones, forming a dense bushy mass of green, six or eight feet high, which contrasted strongly with the barrenness of the shingle remote from the water, and of the rocky walls on either side. The ascent was rapid, and ere long, as the elevation increased, the shrubby vegetation disappeared, and the only plants which grew among the loose fragments of slate were a few small alpine species: Anemone, Corydalis, Thermopsis, and Androsace, were the genera to which these hardy plants belonged. In the crevices of the rocks, a large fleshy-leaved saxifrage, of the subgenus Bergenia, was common: it was a different species from either of the two hitherto described from India, as well as from S. crassifolia of Siberia, and was particularly interesting as a connecting link between these two floras. Further on, the ascent became more gentle; a few small patches of snow were passed, and soon after, the road ascended a very steep and shingly slope after the north side of the ravine, to the crest of a ridge, the elevation of which I estimated at about 15,500 feet.

The top of the ridge was rounded, and had more soil, and, as a consequence, more vegetation, than the stony dell below. Several plants of the valley reappeared, particularly Lithospermum Euchromon and a species of Cynoglossum, both of which seem to have a wide range in altitude. A few new species of Cruciferæ and Astragalus were obtained on the ridge. There was a very good and extensive view to the north, of mountain behind mountain, all bare and desolate; but in every other direction ridges close at hand intercepted the view. The most distant ridge had much snow on it, and appeared very elevated: I supposed it to be that between the Zanskar river and the Indus. After leaving the ridge, the road gradually descended towards the north, down a ravine full of fragments of slate: the hills on both sides were low and rounded. On the descent, Caragana versicolor, the Dama of the Tibetans, occurred very plentifully; it is, however, in general, much less common in the north-west parts of Tibet than further to the south, where it is very luxuriant. Following the course of the ravine, after a considerable distance, I observed bushes of willow and Lonicera to appear in the dry channel, and almost immediately afterwards a little water was found trickling down it, so that I was enabled to encamp, after rather a fatiguing march, at an elevation of about 13,700 feet.

Next day I continued to descend the ravine. The hills were now considerably higher and more rugged than in the upper part, and were faced by cliffs of a clayey conglomerate, partly soft, but often indurated. A rapidly decaying yellowish slate, in highly inclined strata, was seen occasionally in the bed of the river. The stream was, as usual, fringed by willow and Lonicera; and a species of poplar, forming a small tree, occurred frequently. There was scarcely a single vestige of vegetation on the mountain-sides. After descending about two miles, I reached a large ravine, the slope of which was much more gradual. The banks were still composed of clay conglomerate, which rose in lofty precipices on both sides; after about three miles, however, this disappeared, and the ravine became very narrow and rocky. The road was now very rugged, ascending high on the mountain-side, and then descending to cross the stream. The limestone cliffs, which here approached within ten or twelve feet of one another, were marked with horizontal undulating grooves, perhaps indicative of the former existence of a glacier in this spot. As I advanced, after crossing to the right bank of the stream, the road became still more rocky and difficult, till at last the ravine in front became quite impracticable. I now turned suddenly to the right, and entered a narrow passage with perpendicular walls of rock, down which ran a very small streamlet. In this dark shady dell, which was so narrow that the light of the sun could not possibly reach the bottom, there were several large patches of snow. The ascent was at first rapid, but after a mile and a half the slope became more gradual and the ravine considerably wider. The usual shrubs then appeared on the water's edge, close to which I encamped, after a march of perhaps nine miles, at about 13,600 feet, very nearly the same elevation as the place from which I had started in the morning, and in an equally desert situation. The whole march was exceedingly barren, and without any cultivation or village. A few small bushes of juniper (J. excelsa) were met with about half-way, for the first time during my present journey.

On the 1st of July, I continued the ascent of the ravine, which was still extremely barren and stony, except in the immediate vicinity of the stream, where the usual vegetation of willow and Lonicera continued plentiful. A few birch-trees were seen on the road-side. After following the ravine for nearly two miles, I reached a point at which it divided into two branches. The luggage porters took that to the right, which was said to be easier, but longer, while my guide led me to the left, up a steep ravine, which, after a few hundred yards, contracted to a mere fissure three to six feet in width, with very lofty rocky walls, and full of loose shingle. In several places, large masses of hard smooth ice had to be passed, which, from the steepness of the slope, proved no easy task, and would certainly have been almost an impossibility for loaded men. After passing through this fissure, which, as usual, opened out in its upper part, the road turned to the left up a long steep shingly hill-side, to the top of the ridge, which was rounded. While in the ravine I saw no plants; but on the shingly ascent a number of alpine species made their appearance. One of the first was an Anemone, but by far the most abundant was a yellow species of Thermopsis, which was in full flower, and seemed to thrive best among loose stones. A small Veronica, with bright blue flowers, occurred several times on the ascent.

The pass over this ridge is called Takti La. Its elevation was, according to my observation of the boiling-point of water, 16,360 feet. The mountains to the right and left, rising perhaps 1500 feet higher than the pass, obstructed all view. Behind, the landscape was shut in by a lofty snowy mountain, not a mile off; and in front, part of the same snowy range which I had observed from the ridge two days before, was visible. There was a good deal of vegetation at the top, which was in part swampy round a small spring, where probably the snow had only recently melted. The plants were all alpine: Biebersteinia odora, a well-known North Asiatic form, was very common, with several Ranunculaceæ and Cruciferæ, and one or two species of Polygonum.

On the steep shingly ascent which faced the south, I had met with no snow till close to the top, when I saw a few very small patches. On leaving the top of the pass, the road continued to run along the side of the mountain on the left hand, nearly level for about a mile. As I got more fully on the north face, I found snow lying in large patches, which were melting rapidly; and when fairly on the northern slope, I found that, though very steep, it was covered by a continuous bed of snow from the very crest down to about 15,500 feet, as near as I could guess. The view to the north, which, from the pass itself, had been very limited, was now extensive. The range in front was everywhere tipped with snow, and the road up to its crest, with the pass by which I was to cross it, were distinctly visible. Between this range and that on which I stood was interposed the deep ravine of the Zanskar river, the course of which could be traced for a long way, though from the precipitous rocks through which it ran, the stream itself could not be seen.

I find it extremely difficult to describe in an adequate manner the extreme desolation of the most barren parts of Tibet, where no luxuriant forest or bright green herbage softens the nakedness of the mountains, but everywhere the same precipices, heaps of rocks, and barren monotonous deserts meet the eye. The prospect now before me was certainly most wonderful. I had nowhere before seen a country so utterly waste. At the great elevation on which I stood I completely overlooked the valley, and the two or three villages which I afterwards found to exist were either seen as mere spots, or concealed by ranges of hills. Directly in front, across the Zanskar river, a rocky precipice, worn and furrowed in every direction, and broken into sharp pinnacles, rose to the height of at least 2000 feet, overhanging a deep ravine, while to the right and left mountain was heaped upon mountain in inextricable confusion, large patches of snow crowning the highest parts.

From the edge of the snow I descended rapidly to the village of Nira. On the earlier part of the descent, the ground was soft and miry from the recent melting of the snow, which still lay in the more shady parts in large patches. A bright yellow Ranunculus, with numerous petals, and the pretty Lloydia serotina were plentiful close to the snow. Further down, the road was extremely stony, and the descent very abrupt, but towards the end I followed the course of a small streamlet, the margins of which were skirted by a belt not more than a foot in width of vividly green turf. The village of Nira, in which I encamped, was 12,900 feet above the level of the sea: its cultivated lands were extensive, and both in the village and on the hills around, juniper-trees of considerable size were common.